


Revenge & Malice

by OrderOfRevan



Series: The Knights of the Old Republic [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Backstory, Brothers in all but blood, Gen, Jedi Civil War, Mandalorian Wars, Queerplatonic Relationships, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/OrderOfRevan
Summary: One could not have Jorren without Alek, or Alek without Jorren.Inseparable. Like brothers. Or maybe closer. They were always together, until they weren't. And then there was only Jorren, standing over a corpse with no memory of who they had been.This is their story -- A journey from Jedi to Sith.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Did I need another story?
> 
> No.
> 
> Did I want one? 
> 
> Yes.

_Deep breaths._

Jorren told himself, anxiety racing through his blood as he braced himself against the wall, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel his blood rushing in his ears and his heart felt like a drum beat in his chest.

 _How un-Jedilike_ , he thought to himself, managing to bring a small smile to his lips.

The aches through his body made him tremble in thedark corridor of an Alderaanian hall, Castle Organa sleeping around him. Though under normal circumstances, the cool of the wall might have provided some kind of relief for the shaking of his limbs and his thundering heart, this time it was doing absolutely nothing to alleviate his symptoms.

“Master Jedi?”

Right.

_Right._

He wasn’t alone, was he?

“Senator Organa,” Jorren managed to laugh as another wave of pain wracked his body and he clutched at his chest, an awareness weighing on the back of his neck, nagging at him. “Check the holonet--!”

Vision? A _vision_? Some kind of…?

The man, his dark brow furrowed deeply, motioned toward one of the finely dressed attendants, who immediately pulled a holopad from somewhere in the depths of his white robes.

Images already flashed through Jorren’s mind, violent images, fields burning, people _dying_ … Dying as their fields burned. He could almost smell the fire, the sick smell of burning flesh, making his stomach churn the way his head pounded.

Jorren slid to the floor in hopes that it would make his nausea abate.

It didn’t.

A flash in his mind, blue and red helmets like a legion of beetles, Republic flagships bursting into fire at a bombardment of ships, a sole vessel slinking away beyond the stars.

“... I don’t believe it,” the servant was saying, bringing Jorren’s mind painfully back to the present, staring up at the man with wide, dark eyes, Jorren’s skin sallow and damp with sweat. “Suurja’s been attacked by the Mandalorians. Just now. The news is all over the holonet.”

Jorren growled, and slammed his hand against the wall hard enough that he felt it rattle the bones in his arm. It was painful, but at least his head and stomach were starting to feel better as his mind cleared of the images that still swam before his eyes.

“They’ll take it,” he said, voice uncharacteristically rough. “They’ll take Suurja, and then use it as a staging center to take Taris.”

Struggling to his feet, he stared at Senator Organa, for once feeling every bit his two meter height. From the look on the man’s face, his brown eyes wide and staring, Jorren _looked_ every bit his two meter height, too, and perhaps a bit intimidating.

Funny, Jorren had never been a particularly intimidating person.

“I need to use your holocommunicator, Senator. I need to speak to the Jedi Council about this immediately.” He forced himself to relax, running his hand over his face, feeling how clammy his skin had grown and making a note to go to the ‘fresher later.

Right now, though…

Right now the dramatic effect of a Jedi ragged after a vision of mass destruction might help him.

Queli, Cathar, Athir III, and now Suurja…

How many worlds had to fall to the Mandalorians before the Republic _or_ the Jedi took their threat seriously? Surely the Republic, at least, couldn’t ignore the Mandalorians any longer. Suurja provided grain to Taris, and Taris was on the very verge of joining the Republic, rakghoul problem aside.

“O-of course, Master Jedi,” Senator Organa said, bowing. “Are you… Are you well?”

“Just your garden variety vision of mass destruction, Senator,” Jorren said, waving his hand dismissively. “Nothing a Jedi Consular can’t handle.”

The Senator didn’t look particularly convinced, or even really that amused, considering that Jorren had meant it to be a joke. Perhaps a very ill-timed joke, but a joke nonetheless, more for his own benefit than the Senator’s. Sighing, Jorre straightened himself further, and let his expression become sober.

“Senator, _please_. I saw Suurja’s destruction in my vision. I need to speak to the Council immediately.”

Organa finally nodded and motioned for Jorren to follow him down the hallway, entering a room that was fairly typical of all the smaller rooms in Castle Organa, grand, but in a humble way. All the furnishings of Castle Organa were graceful and fine, but it seemed they were graceful and fine for their own sake, not for the sake of their inhabitants, reflecting the spirit of House Organa better than anything else could.

It made Jorren feel very grateful that he was here now instead of elsewhere, on some other world where lesser men ruled.

Not that the Jedi Order would entrust him with a particularly sensitive mission, he reminded himself, sliding down to sit in the sit directly in front of the holocommunicator, feeling exhausted, worn to the quick. As much as they praised his ability, lauded him as the most talented young Jedi Knight the Order had to offer, they also didn’t completely trust him, perhaps because he had grown increasingly dissenting in the last months as the tensions on the Outer Rim rose and the Mandalorian threat mounted.

He spoke too loudly.

He was too _proud_.

Was it _pride_ to question bad orders, he wondered, thanking Senator Organa before turning his attention fully to the holocommunicator.

Was it _pride_ to believe he knew better than the Order? That he thought their hesitations about the past were blinding them to a threat far greater than any of them could anticipate?

The Mandalorians weren’t the Sith, it was true, but they still posed a grave danger to the Republic.

With how many war orphans the Jedi had taken in, they should surely know that.

The holocomm flickered to life, and Jorren was greeted by the two Jedi Masters he least wanted to see -- Overly cautious Master Vandar, and outright hostile Master Vrook. Still, he bowed as best he could while sitting and took a deep breath, looking between the two men, who both stared back at him with a kind of mute shock on their faces.

“Has there been some shocking development in Alderaanian politics for you to call us so suddenly?”Master Vrook asked coolly, arms crossed over his chest, quickly recovering. “This channel is for emergencies only.”

Jorren stared at Master Vrook for a moment before responding. “Oh, nothing major,” he said, “just a vision of the destruction of Suurja at the hands of the Mandalorians.”

“You’ve had a vision?” Master Vandar asked, furrowing his grey-green brow deeply, but whatever concern he was about to show for the well-being of the people of Suurja was interrupted by Master Vrook.

“The future is always fluid, Jorren,” Vrook said chidingly. “You should know that as well as anyone.”

“They’ve already invaded! If you just paid attention to the holonet…” Jorren fought against his frustration bubbling to the surface, but his hands tugged at his hair regardless.

“The situation does appear to have grown more serious,” Vandar said placatingly. “We should at least discuss this new development. Thank you for informing us of your vision, young Jorren. We will consider it when we meet.”

“With all due respect, considering it won’t change what’s happening, Master Vandar,” Jorren said, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, trying to draw in deep, calming breaths. “Those people are suffering. Doesn’t this advocate _immediate_ action?”

“It is not our way to act upon impulse,” Vrook’s tone was scolding, harsh. “We are Jedi. We must advocate patience. Your youthful anger and arrogance are clouding your judgement. You may be a very powerful young Jedi, but you do not yet have the wisdom to--”

“Patience isn’t a synonym for inaction!” Jorren replied, his voice snapping over the holocommunicator. “People are _dying_ while you’re holding council sessions. How many lives have to be lost before you consider the Mandalorians a threat? If not one on par with the Sith, at least a threat in their own right?” Calming himself, Jorren took deep, stilling breaths, sensing their shock and Vrook’s annoyance from over the holocomm, forcing him to redouble lest he push them too far. “Forgive me. I just had a very emotional vision. I’m afraid I’m still a bit caught up in it.”

Even Vrook’s face softened at that, the two Jedi exchanging long looks. “We understand,” Vrook said. “Like you, we’re both Jedi Consulars. We’ve both had visions of our own. But you must remember that you are a Jedi, and you must conduct yourself like a Jedi.”

“Trust the wisdom of the Force,” Master Vandar added. “We will contact you if the decision of the Council changes.”

Their images disappeared, leaving Jorren in silence.

Trust the wisdom of the Force?

For a moment, Jorren sat there, staring blankly at the holocommunicator, staring at it without staring. He could still almost smell the char of flesh, could feel the heat of the burning fields on his skin, and see the helmets of the Mandalorian Neo Crusaders glinting in his eyes. Inside his chest, something stirred, something not an emotion, an instinct, powerful but nebulous, compelling him to do _something_ … _anything_ at all.

Jorren knew almost instantly that it was the Force, pulling at him, bidding him to listen.

Quieting his mind of all questions, letting his emotions pour from him to leave him filled with only peace, Jorren reached out to the Force, feeling it fill him. It wouldn’t have sent him this vision if it didn’t have some purpose for him, it wouldn’t have bothered if it didn’t want him to…

Want him to…

 _Act_.

Act?

 _Not_ listen to the Council? _Not_ sit and wait?

_Yes._

And how could he?

How could he abandon all the people of the Galaxy. If it took proof of genocide to bring the Jedi around to his side, if it took concrete evidence of Mandalorian brutality… He would find it.

He had to find it.

But could he do it alone?

Did he have the strength to do it at all?

Pulling himself out of his trance, hands trembling, Jorren reached out toward the holocommunicator, finding the channel he wanted, watching as the woman in question came into view. Kae, dark hair graying with premature signs of age, blinked owlishly at him from the other side of the line, smiling at first, though that smile quickly vanished when she saw how grim-faced he was.

“Jorren?”

“I need you to tell me I’m not losing my mind.”

Master Kae, her wise old eyes searching his face, nodded. “Tell me your woes, Jorren. I’ll do what I can do to shed light on all your fears and drag them into the open.”

Jorren, taking a deep breath, began to speak.

 

~~~

 

“Are you really leaving without orders, Master Jedi?” Senator Organa asked, looking worried as he trailed after Jorren, who was already taking long strides toward the shuttle that awaited to take him back to Coruscant.

“I’m sorry, Senator,” Jorren said, glancing back over his shoulder, feeling small and wholly untested, but raw and resolved nonetheless. “The Force is calling me away on urgent business. You don’t really need me here, anyway,” Jorren reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Jedi Diplomacy isn’t required for your appearance at the royal court, Senator.”

Senator Organa looked about to say something, but Jorren pulled away, taking the loading ramp in a few long strides, ducking into the depths of the ship.

A thrill shot through him, a strange sensation born of his uncharacteristic rebellion. He’d always spoken the words, but to actually be _doing_ something like this, to be acting on the pull to go to the war front, to listen to the will of the Force without the Jedi Council’s approval… He’d never done anything like this before.

Some would say he wasn’t truly capable of it.

Perhaps even himself.

While it was certainly true that Jorren had always spoken his mind, that he’d been a very willful young man who did not take well to bullies, he’d always listened to what the people who raised him said when push came to shove. He respected something in their wisdom, even if he thought their opinions were foolish, and knew that they held authority over him.

Not this time, though.

If they excommunicated him for this, so be it.

It was the Force’s will, pulling him toward the Mandalorians, toward the War, toward a future that was frightening. Certainty lay behind him, but Jorren found leaving that behind to be oddly freeing.

As terrifying as this may be, it was also _necessary_.  

Leaning against one wall, Jorren pulled out his personal holocomm for a minute, staring at it and hesitating. No matter what, he was going to need help, was going to have to ask other people to join him because one Jedi alone couldn’t defy the council to save the Galaxy, but…

But getting Alek involved when Alek had always been a good Jedi, a loyal, dedicated, Jedi…

He didn’t know, it just seemed…

It seemed a bit like he might be ruining his friend’s life.

Staring at a holocomm shouldn’t cause anyone this much anxiety.

It was only imagining Alek’s reaction when he realized Jorren had planned something without him that finally made Jorren move, slipping into one of the shuttles small, quiet side rooms. Most shuttles and the commercial cruisers they ferried people to had rooms like this now to ensure that patrons who _did_ have personal holocomms would have a retreat for private conversations.

Taking a breath, Jorren pictured Alek’s expression if he weren’t made co-conspirator and leaned against one of the walls, hailing his friend. Alek, always quick to respond to anything even remotely interesting, picked up almost immediately after Jorren called him, standing tall and intimidating, as always.

“Jorren? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for at least another week.” Alek’s posture immediately relaxed, and the small image offered Jorren a lazy smile. “What’s the occasion?”

When Jorren didn’t immediately respond, Alek’s face turned concerned, his brow furrowing deeply. “This isn’t like you, Jorren,” Alek said in an oddly quiet and taciturn manner. “Where’s the tongue in cheek response? The ear to ear grin? What happened?”

“I had a vision.”

Alek frowned, running his right thumb over his lips in deep thought. Jorren could almost imagine the exact expression in those eyes, though it was difficult to see on the blue image he held in the palm of his head -- thoughtful, deeply worried. “Another one?”

“They’re getting worse,” Jorren told him. “It used to be just when I slept, and then the flashes, but this time I…” Jorren took a breath and ran his hand through his hair again, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was in public. I was doubled over in pain. It’s never been that _intense_.”

For a moment Alek was quiet, staring down at some point on the ground Jorren couldn’t see. As usual, he looked perpetually concerned with Jorren’s well-being, worried about the visions and their implications. In reality, Jorren was just very sensitive to the Force, had been since he was very small, and was only growing in power the older he grew, but that didn’t stop Alek from worrying about him.

It had been that way since they were children.

Everyone always saw Jorren as the ringleader, but in reality, Alek was the more confident and comfortable of the two of them. Alek was both bold and wise, a combination that placed him in a position of caretaker for the often absent minded Jorren Ollus.

“Jorren, where are you?”

“I tell you about my traumatic vision and _that’s_ your response?” Jorren said, offering Alek a cheeky smile. “I feel wounded.”

“Quit deflecting.” Alek’s voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a bit too precise. “Where are you?”

“I’m leaving Alderaan.”

Alek stared blankly at him, blinking slowly and owlishly, before he slowly began to shake his head. “You’re leaving Alderaan? Has the Council called you home because of your vision?”

“No,” Jorren said. “I’m coming back on my own.”

“On your own?” Alek’s eyebrows went from furrowed to arched high in half a second. “You’re _defying_ the Council?” For a moment longer, Alek stared at him, and then sighed heavily. “This… This is about the Mandalorian Wars?”

“They’re going to take Suurja. They’ve already invaded. It’s only a matter of time before my vision comes to fruition.” Jorren looked away from Alek for a moment, staring toward the door to make sure no one else interrupted them before he sunk into one of the chairs that lined the wall. “It didn’t have to,” he said, voice growing tight. “I keep thinking about… About all those people. About the bodies piling up in the fields only to be burned. About the blue and red helmets glinting underneath the sun.”

He paused for a moment, the silence between them more poignant than any words could be. Jorren let it swell, staring at the projection of Alek, who was looking back up at him expectantly, quietly, as if waiting for him to say something incredibly profound.

“The Jedi could stop all of this, and what are we doing? Talking behind closed doors.”

The next silence was unnerving to Jorren, who wanted Alek to _say_ something, not just stand there staring at him, still running his thumb over his lips thoughtfully. Tension mounted until Alek’s small exhalation of breath, followed by his shoulders slumping, “What are you planning, Jorren?”

Jorren didn’t joke, sitting the holocommunicator on the table across from him to lace his fingers together, bowing his head and staring at his hands. “I’m going to go out there. I’m going to go to Suurja. I will _make_ them listen, Alek” He looked up at his friend, his own brow furrowed deeply. “I want you to come with me.”

Alek blinked slowly, and then started to laugh. “You… You’re talking like there’s a possibility that I’m going to say _no_ . Jorren, you know how much I hate the stagnancy of the Jedi Order. I’m not just saying those things to agree with you. My… My _parents_ were killed by Mandalorians…”

Jorren breathed out slowly, a sense of relief swelling in his chest; he hadn’t wanted to ask Alek, but he was glad he has. “We shouldn’t go alone. I’m coming back to Coruscant to try to recruit. Then to Dantooine. Then to Taris. The Enclaves there are big enough that it’s worth it to try to get the Jedi there involved.”

Alek nodded. “We can plan more in person. I’m already on Coruscant awaiting my next orders from the Council.” He paused, then hesitated, the small eyes of the projection managing to meet and hold Jorren’s eyes regardless. “You know I’d follow you anywhere, don’t you?”

“I worry your faith is misplaced,” Jorren admitted. “Ever since we’ve been small, I’ve worried that.”

“Your lack of self-confidence isn’t warranted, Jorren. It never has been.” Alek sighed. “I will never understand why everyone can see it but you.”

The Council had held him to such incredible standards since he was small that he felt he could never live up to the image other people had of him. Jorren, the gifted. Jorren, the most promising young Jedi of the new Order. Nearly thirty and what had he done?

Next to nothing.

But perhaps that would change.

“Maybe they’re seeing something that’s not there,” Jorren said, staring at his hands again, not able to meet Alek’s eyes.

“Maybe they aren’t and you just haven’t had a chance to prove yourself yet.”Alek said. “They haven’t been letting you do anything. They’ve been forcing you to take missions that are beneath you in an attempt to humble you.” Jorren looked up when Alek started laughing.

“What?”

“I was going to say… Look at the sort of mission you give yourself,” Alek said, grinning from ear to ear. “You go from attending political fetes on Alderaan to attempting to save the Galaxy.”

It took Jorren a minute before he began laughing as well, the two of them letting the stress flow from the room. They couldn’t be serious all the time -- In fact, it violated something innate about who they were as people to be constantly grim faced. Half of their early friendship they had simply been two mischievous little boys who wanted someone else to get into trouble with.

“I’ll meet you in the Spaceport, Jorren. When do you think you’ll arrive?”

“Hopefully tonight. Core world to core world. It’s not like I’m traveling to the Rim.” Jorren shrugged. “Alderaan and Coruscant are a quick hop across hyperspace.”

Alek nodded. “I’ll see you then. It should be around time to eat here, so I’ll buy you something to eat.”

“With what credits?”

Alek grinned. “That’s a story for another day. We’ll speak soon.”

And then the call was over, leaving Jorren staring for a moment at the holocommunicator, which he quickly slipped back into its place on his utility belt. Taking a moment to gather himself, Jorren went back into the primary shuttle chambers, knowing that soon they’d be boarding the cruiser stationed over Alderaan.

It seemed he had a lot of thinking to do, but at least he had a decent meal to look forward to, probably fairly cheap

Fancy political fetes had never been his style, anyway.


End file.
